


before you and after you

by ache_for_him



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, M/M, Masturbation, Murder Husbands, Older Man/Younger Man, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Hannibal, Possessive Will Graham, Rough Sex, Teasing, Will Graham Knows
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-04-08 16:34:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14109510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ache_for_him/pseuds/ache_for_him
Summary: Hannibal and Will had a past: a dirty, bloody, violent past. Will was sure he'd never see his own personal monster again - then he walked into Jack Crawford's office.





	1. Chapter 1

Nighttime was the best time to kill someone.

Will  **knew**  that.

He also knew that because nighttime was the best time to kill someone, people were more wary - there was no trust and every movement was scrutinised, paranoia clinging to the air like a bad smell. There were clear boundaries at night that didn't exist in the day: a person was more likely to cross the road if someone headed their way than walk past them. That would be lunacy when the sun was awake, but under the white light of the moon, it was justifiable. Because everyone knew that things  _lurked_  in the dark shadows, waiting and watching for any sign of weakness; waiting to leap forward and drag souls down into twisted perversions and desperate violence.

That being said, Will knew that after buying someone a few drinks and watching them gulp it eagerly down their throat, instantly it may as well be midday, because people were vulnerable and  _trusting_ , clinging like newborns to him as he led them astray. If he weren't going to kill them, he'd have been revolted at how he let them paw at his chest, sucking bruises into his throat and groping at his cock. Men, women, it didn't matter - they were all the same. Tripping, stumbling like newborn foals and drowning in the ocean blue of his eyes, rutting like mindless dogs at the anticipation of sleeping with the beautiful, curly haired youth they'd snared, and Will buzzing with his own anticipation, always hardened at the thought of cutting them open, slicking his hands with their blood, or choking them out, watching the life leave their eyes mindlessly. Mostly he hunted the sober - and whoever he felt like - but on nights like this one, with his mind tearing itself apart, he needed something easy. It was when he was most likely to make a mistake - having gone too long without the buzz beneath his skin and too fired up on hormones to concentrate on it all. Despite being so young, he knew enough to make him feel like an old man when it came to murder. And not many twenty-one year old's could say that.

Sometimes he fucked them before he killed them. Too wound up, he needed an outlet before he let go too early. When he had women, he spread their legs, grinning harshly and punished them with hard, bruising thrusts that left them screaming, groaning, whining in pleasure, nails digging into his back as their walls rippled around them. He never came in them because the clean up was just too much effort, but he liked it when they came around him. It took the edge off it all. The men, however, were different. He couldn't help himself when it came to the men. He started with them on their knees, slurping down on his cock like it was the best thing they'd ever tasted, while he stretched them open wider and wider until they keened at the pressure on their prostates. He fucked them hard, bare and always,  _always_  came inside them. He tended to kill the men while he fucked them: his orgasm pulled from him as they finally stopped struggling. He didn't know why it felt so good. 

But it did. So he kept doing it. 

It was one of  _those_  nights when he met him. After three murders in as many weeks, the gutted pigs staged to show the offences they'd committed against Will, not that the local PD understood, he wanted an easy target before he skipped town. Being a drifter meant a limitless population of targets, but no ties or consistent lodgings. His dogs were the only constant in his young life.

There was a pretty blonde currently smiling at him from underneath her eyelashes and immediately Will felt a ripple of calm pass over him. It would be easy - a kill, nothing more, and his monster would be fine for a few months: fully sated and content to let him live normally underneath his person suit. 

Then a pair of arms wrapped around his waist. "She's hardly worth your time," a deep, lilting voice murmured against the shell of his ear. 

As pick up lines went, it was not the worst he'd ever heard, but it made him snort and turn in the embrace, pretty blonde disappearing from his thoughts at the prospect of a more interesting target. He was surprised at the man behind him however. He was at least double Will's age - something that made him shiver with want - and he looked better suited for a  _ball_  than a bar, but there was something dark and dangerous lurking in his eyes that made Will harden instantly. A small, half smile, gone before he could properly register it, told Will his companion had noticed his arousal. 

"And you are?" Will asked, leaning forward, feeling suddenly drunk, his mind tumbling at the man before him. "Worth my time, I mean?"

The maroon-eyed man grinned sharply. "Yes," he nodded and Will's hind-brain screamed  _predator_. Fuck, he realised, the man was  _like him_ , and he shivered in pleasure because it became clear that he'd probably been doing this as long as Will had - maybe since before Will had even been born. Oh, it had been a while since he'd run into a kindred spirit and there was always the age old dilemma - fuck, avoid or kill. It seemed the broad shouldered monster wrapped in motorbike leather was angling for the first of the three options and it would be the only time a similarly inclined individual had tempted Will enough to consider fucking.

"Would you look as good painted in red, though?" Will breathed into his skin, his lips on the man's neck, tongue darting out to lick at the salt there. An involuntary jerk of his companion's hips told him all he needed to know about the killer in his arms.

Suddenly they were moving. 

They barely made it to the alley before Will was slammed into the wall. His eyes fluttered shut as his head connected with the brick with a painful _thwack_. A groan tore free from his throat as a hand forced its way into his trousers. Oh he wanted to  _keep_  this monster - chain him up and never let him go - because the more he saw, the more he liked, the more he noticed how _similar_ they both were to one another. "Yes," he growled, snarling as a rough, calloused hand tugged him free of his boxers and the other crept around to pull at his dry hole. It was going to  _hurt_ , but Will had always had a thing for pain. He cried out as a particularly cruel twist of the older man's wrist sent pain-pleasure skittering along his nerves.

"Good boy, little one," he crooned, edging closer and bringing his fingers up to shove inside Will's mouth and the youth sucked on them hungrily. Eventually the older man pulled away, fingers drifting south again, and the pads of his fingers ran over his rim. "Open up, little boy," he whispered. Protest at the name died on his lips as another  _twist-slick-slide_  of his hand, accompanied by the two digits forcing their way inside him, left him mindless.

Then he started toying with him. 

"Steady there little one," he chuckled, eyes dark with lust and hunger as he pulled off Will's trousers and ripped free his boxers. "Barely off your mother's breast and already so  _twisted_. I might keep you," another wry chuckle, before: "I saw your work."

"Yeah?" Will gasped, shoving his hips down sharply and ignoring the half-whine that broke free of his throat when the fingers stabbed at his prostate. God, _fuck_ , this monster _saw him_ , he could understand him, appreciate him. Hell, he was harder than he ever remembered being before. 

"Beautiful," the older man crooned, biting at his neck harshly. Will was trembling violently then and grateful when his companion shifted, dropping his roaming fingers and releasing the tight grip on his cock to fish his own appendage from his trousers and guide it to the spit-stretched hole. "You don't let them fuck you, do you?" he asked as he hovered close enough to touch. 

"Never," Will breathed. The man groaned long and hard at the confession before he forced himself inside, ignoring the high, desperate mewls spilling from Will as he carved a place for himself inside the boy. He hoisted one leg up, hooking his arm underneath his knee and bending Will into an uncomfortable position. He was a sight, Will knew: naked from the waist down, crowded against the cold brick wall of a seedy alley beside a third tier nightclub and looking more like the prostitutes often found there than a patron. Not to mention, of course, the thick cock and growling murderer pinning him there. 

"Good  _boy_ ," he groaned as though physically in pain, "you're so good for me. Ah,  _ah_ , such a good boy," he parroted as he began to thrust in long, jarring strokes. Will whined high in his throat again, eyes opening wide. He could suddenly see the blonde over his companions shoulder, cigarette hanging limply between her fingers and her mouth slightly open too, clearly stunned at a potential lay being fucked like a whore by a man twice his age and twice his size. 

"Ah, fuck,  _ah_ , they're watching," he hissed. The man only snarled, speeding up his thrusts and grinning madly at the sounds Will made as he hammered his prostate. And when Will finally came, stars burned behind his eyes, and he clenched down hard enough to pull his companion into his own orgasm. 

"I'm Will," he finally said, slurring slightly, but a shit-eating grin on his face as the twitching and growling finally stopped and his companion went soft inside him. 

"Hannibal," the maroon-eyed monster replied with a smile that showed too much teeth. 

"Hi," he responded, "we're going to be doing that again." His tone held no room for argument. 

"As you wish, little one," Hannibal purred, easing himself out and smirking when half of his come splattered on the floor beneath them and the other slid down the inside of Will's thigh. 

"And we're going to kill people too," Will added seductively, sashaying his hips slightly as he moved to his trousers, pulled them up and tucked the remains of his boxers into his pocket.

"As you wish little one," the man repeated against the back of his neck, biting gently and huffing with amusement when the younger man shivered. "We will kill and fuck for as long as I'm in town."

"How long?" Will asked. 

"Three weeks."

"Okay," he grinned as his cock gave a faint, interested twitch, "well I'm not yet sated, and I can tell you my monster isn't."

The growl that echoed in Hannibal's throat had Will's cock standing to full attention and his monster howl in anticipation. 


	2. Chapter 2

Jack Crawford irritated him. It was more than the usual irritation - the itch under his skin that Will felt towards humanity in general - and more a constant buzz in the back of his mind that he'd like to stab the man in the eye with a fork. He was loud, brash and thought too little of people like Will: those who had talent and were seemingly easy to manipulate. He'd watched in amusement as the man crumbled when Miriam Lass went missing, because that had been some of the best entertainment he'd had in a long time. He had toasted the Ripper that evening and his quiet crush on the serial mutilator had grown as much as his annoyance at Jack had. But despite both the need to piss off Crawford and the burning want to drag his nails down the body of Baltimore's most notorious killer, Will had stayed far away from the Ripper. He'd stayed away because despite the arousal that stirred within him, and the glaringly obvious taunts to law enforcement that made him want to reply, Will didn't want to be involved. If he was involved, he'd be forced to help or he'd be on the Ripper's radar and the monster seemed to be the kind to kill first and ask questions later. And Will couldn't fuck him if he was dead.

All in all, Will was over that shit. 

Will was also over the way Jack tried to appeal to his better angels as he sidled up to him after class with flattery and pleas that if Will weren't so  _good_ at pretending, would have made him laugh. And oh he was very good at pretending. The very fact he'd managed to embed himself in the heart of the FBI spoke volumes as to his ability. He'd been a police officer, then a consultant, then an FBI Special Agent, and it was all thanks to his monster. His dark, twisted, beautiful, Lithuanian monster: _Hannibal_. A man who, despite sharing few moments with Will, had changed his life completely. The man had shown him how to kill in ways he'd only fantasised about, fucked him hard enough to rattle the teeth in his jaw, and had opened his eyes to the possibilities that life could offer. All in all, when the Lithuanian finally left after their shared weeks together, Will had transcended from a twenty-one year old serial killer to a force of wrath and darkness that writhed and crippled those around him with a glance.

His ability to hide the violent urges that lay beneath his skin and obscure the truth from even the most talented of investigators - both had been important lessons from the foreigner - meant, unfortunately, that people like Jack thought they could steam roll right over him. It meant that while he could obscure his kills amongst those he hunted and know whenever something potentially damning could noose him, he would have to put up with the people he'd enjoy killing the most. It would be obvious if after one of his more famous disputes with Jack, the Guru was found coughing up his own intestines...although it didn't stop Will fantasising about it.

Walking into Jack's office, Will had been prepared: prepared to fight Jack on everything and indulge himself in the horrors of anything, slick his hands with the blood of their kills and jump into their heads so he could finally let his own monster loose without arousing suspicion. He was prepared for anything. 

Except  _Him._

It had been years since he'd seen the man, but Hannibal was always recognisable to Will. How could he forget the face of the man who had given him so much? Who had carved out a place inside Will just to make room for himself? He felt suddenly sick - no doubt from nerves and from anticipation - but sick nevertheless. Ten years had passed and the European stood in Jack Crawford's office, within touching distance...

And judging from the blank look in those dangerous eyes, Hannibal didn't have a clue who he was. 

Admittedly, he knew he'd changed a lot. Will was sure had he strode in naked, Hannibal was more likely to know just who he was, given how they had spent most of their time: covered in blood or come, there tended not to be an in between. But it still hurt, because while the twenty-one year old that had lured patrons from nightclubs with skinny-jeans, cherry-red bitten lips and who wore sex like a perfume was gone, his curls and bright blue eyes (two features that Hannibal had adored) hadn't changed. Surely the man should at least notice the  _similarities._   

"Dr Hannibal Lecter, this is Will Graham," Jack introduced after a moment. There was a flicker of interest in Hannibal's eyes before it vanished and he held out his hand in greeting.

How  _dull_.  

Will ignored the handshake, narrowing his eyes and trying not to shiver at their proximity. It was also difficult not to drown in the familiar dark, vile twist of emotion in Hannibal's eyes at the rebuff. _Oh,_ Will remembered, _his trigger was the rude_. 

"I don't need a Doctor, Jack," Will snapped because as thrilling as having Hannibal there was, he hadn't been brought into the case to give Will erections and warm memories, "so what the hell is he doing here?"

"To consult," Jack replied, tone leaving no room for argument. "So sit," he ordered. Will huffed, but threw himself down into the seat and took a large sip from the coffee cup before him, ignoring the sudden focus of the man by his side. "So," Jack began, drawing in a breath, "the Ripper."

Will groaned. "No, Jack," he retorted, standing, "you know I don't consult on the Ripper."

"Will -" Jack protested, beginning a long, drawn out speech that the profiler tuned out immediately, because he'd just had a thought. The grotesque beauty of the Ripper had always rung a little to close to home: too art-like, too violent, too  _Hannibal_. Hannibal was the Ripper. Will was sure. It seemed his darling monster had evolved from their last meeting to something that elevated even the filth of their world to beauty. 

Which meant that Jack was using the Ripper to try and catch the Ripper. 

It also meant that Jack was trying to convince the Ripper's student into catching the Ripper. 

It seemed the universe hated Jack as much as Will did. 

A knock at the door broke through Jack's tirade and Will swapped an amused glance with Hannibal at the pause. The European seemed surprised at Will's familiarity, especially given his refusal to shake his hand, but he hid the emotion well. At the sound of the latch, Will turned slightly and his irritation doubled.  _Alana-_ fucking- _Bloom_. 

Now Alana was nothing like Jack. She didn't force him into doing profiling, nor did she use pleas to save the innocent. No, what Alana - sweet, silky-haired Alana - did was much worse. Alana pretended to be his friend, her professional curiosity not even thinly veiled, and she believed Will was too delicate and too stupid not to notice that for every action of friendship came hand in hand with study. She was a hypocrite and an ego-maniac, convinced he wanked himself off at night at the thought of her. Will had fucked a lot of people and teased himself over several more, but she had never come close to making the cut. It was safe to say that Will disliked Alana more than he disliked Jack and if he ever got the chance, he'd take out those pretty, patronising, pity-filled eyes of hers with a spoon. 

In reality, he half-smiled, half-grimaced at her, the way one friend would to another when completely  _done_ with a situation. She responded in kind, before turning to Hannibal and fucking  **grinning**. 

"Hannibal," she greeted brightly, "such a surprise."

"Alana," Hannibal chuckled, steadily rising to meet her and dropping a kiss on each cheek. Her blush made the blood in Will's veins burn because  **absolutely not _._**

"Will," she said, smiling sweetly and turning towards him after staring at the Lithuanian for just a fraction too long.

"Good to see you Alana," he replied, keeping the anger from his tone - although not entirely successfully if the curious, almost confused look from Hannibal was anything. 

"You too Will," she said, blushing again when Hannibal motioned for her to occupy his now empty seat. She nodded before sitting herself down gracefully. 

"The Ripper, Will," Jack prompted. 

There was a long pause, as though Will were wrestling with himself before: "What have you got?" Like hell he wasn't going to get involved now he knew he could fuck the Ripper without ending up as mincemeat. Not to mention, of course, that Hannibal might need an ally on the team who knew just who and what he was. Alibis might be necessary further down the line... 

Jack grinned in triumph and fished a stack of pictures from the pile on his desk, handing them over quickly, like Will might change his mind and leave. The man couldn't know that with Hannibal hovering over his shoulder, Will wouldn't be going  _anywhere_ for the foreseeable future.

There was a man and a woman: both butchered in typical Ripper fashion: arms and legs severed, choking on their tongues which had been shoved down their own throats. It was a typical scene, but:

"She's not worth his time," Will announced, tapping a finger on the woman who held less art and more...obligation? Had she been in the way? Or was she less offensive? Either way, Hannibal hadn't focused on her. "It was the man he wanted."

Jack's brow furrowed, but before he managed to ask,  _His_ voice came from behind. "Why do you think that is?"

Will hid a smile and turned in his seat, pinning the European to the spot with his gaze. He let his tongue poke from between his teeth and wet his lips before shrugging once and looking up through hooded eyes. "She doesn't look good painted in red."

 _Ah,_  there... 

_Recognition._

Hannibal's pupils blew as he finally _saw_.

Will smirked and turned back to Jack. 

Game. Fucking. On.  


	3. Chapter 3

"You know, most people would be offended about being forgotten."

It had taken less than eight minutes after their dismissal from Jack's office for Hannibal to free himself from Alana's grubby paws and weave his way through the halls of the FBI to Will in his empty lecture hall. Not that Will had timed him, of course. Because that would be bordering on obsessive... who was he kidding, if he could have counted the milliseconds, he would have. There was always something about Hannibal that brought out the crazy in him.

A hand snaked its way around his waist, possessive, claiming, tight. Will huffed out a laugh, shoulders shaking slightly, because only Hannibal would attempt that shit. "Easy there Chesapeake," he smirked, already plotting a way to make his monster pay for his slip up. There was no way he was letting the whole thing go.

The hand tightened even further. 

"Clever boy," Hannibal growled against the back of his neck, breath tickling his ear and making Will suddenly desperate to grind back against him.  _Fuck_ , he'd missed him.

"Well you didn't pick me for my looks alone,  _baisūnas_ ," he replied, hand dropped to hold Hannibal's in place... for the moment. It was nice to be in the presence of someone real. Someone who didn't demand Will hide away the dark, frightening parts of himself. 

Hannibal laughed lightly, inhaling deeply before he responded. "Not alone,  _mylimasis._ "

 _"Sweet_   _talker_ ,"Will hissed. "Although you'll have to do better than that, I'm not as easy as I once was." He rested his head back on Hannibal's shoulder, mouth parting just enough to entice the man. The Doctor leaned forwards, drawn in by the loose curls and blue eyes peering out at him. Oh, his monster was still so  _easy_ \- a bat of the eyelashes, a swing of the hips and a mere mention of gruesome murder and Hannibal was eating out the palm of his hand. In a way it was nice to see that the man was still so gone on him - well gone enough to be enthralled  _after_ he had to be told who Will was. It was such a double-edged sword. The mother of all back-handed compliments.  "And we're not fucking here," he added when the European's other hand began to wander, "so you might want to save those honeyed words of yours." 

"I've fucked you in worse places," Hannibal murmured, palming him through the front of his trousers, "and in front of more people."

"I was young and eager then."

"Still eager, I hope," he shot back, growing steadily more smug as Will hardened under his touch. 

"Wouldn't you like to know."

There was a pause and Will wondered at the sight they made. To the outside eye they were two strangers: one a smartly and expensively dressed doctor, the other a scruffy, anti-social and odd teacher, but were wound around each other like lovers. Hands and limbs so tangled up it was unclear whose were whose. There was a sort of artwork to the pair of them, a balance, light, dark, yin-yang: all that crap he thought. Part of him wanted to stay there forever, trapped in a single moment for eternity where their hormones were raging, their blood heated and nothing could turn them against one another. Two beautiful, twisted things twisted around each other. The poetry of it all made a breathy exhale slip between his teeth...although he was sure the way the Doctor squeezed him may have helped.  

"I've missed you so," Hannibal finally breathed out quietly.

Will swallowed the sudden lump in his throat at the sentiment, trying to retain control. "We spent mere moments together, Hannibal."

"Moments shape a lifetime,  _gražuolė_." 

 _Oh hell,_ Will thought,  _that smooth talking bastard has only gotten better at charming his way into my pants_. But he'd be damned if he was going to give in that easily. He flicked his eyes over, gaze resting on the crease where his neck met his collar bone, before he lurched forward and sank his teeth in. 

The sound Hannibal made wasn't human but with the blood bursting on his tongue, Will's brain was too fried to register it. It was a taste he had missed: the copper, salted tang that he had often licked from Hannibal's lips when he bit too hard during their fucks. It was like ambrosia to him and brought him back to days of hard screws and the best, bloody kills. Hannibal pulled away, shoving Will forward hard. The profiler didn't stumble, but instead fell against the desk, barely able to keep the smile of his face. There was blood running down his chin, in his teeth and gums, but the most was coating the collar of Hannibal's pretentious shirt. He looked furious, rabid even, but the painful strain in his crotch told a different story. His monster could play pretend with the world, but never with Will. 

"You didn't recognise me,  _kalė,_ " Will snarled, before jumping up to sit on the desk behind him, forcing his body to be open and lax, leaning back as though they were exchanging recipes or phone numbers, not moments away from tearing into each other like wild dogs. "And while I may not be a normal person, I'm still fucking  _pissed_." He grinned, feral. "So,  _darling_ , we're going to have some fun before I let you bend me over the nearest fucking table. I like a game of cat-and-mouse as much as the next person and well, the Ripper is the catch of the day." 

Hannibal took a menacing step forward, eyes bottomless black pits, but Will continued on, unfazed. Hannibal was still just as regal, just as proper - and frankly if he were going to kill him, he'd have the good decency to at least tell him first. He owed Will that much.

"If you can court me like you used to, stay ahead of Crawford _and_ put the Ripper behind bars, I'll let you have every part of me, including the monster you helped nurture. I'll hunt with you, cook with you, fuck you, and why not, I'll let you parade me around in your world like the best in show. If you can manage it though. Something tells me you'll find a way," he barked out a laugh. "You probably haven't had a companion like  _that_ in a while, right?" His tone dropped to something low and sultry. "Or ever, other than me..."

Wasn't  _that_ a thought, Will mused, drinking in the sight of his monster so ruffled and bloody.

"Court you?" the doctor growled, the blood on his skin apparently inconsequential given how little attention he had paid it. The bite would probably need stitches though.

"I'm an old-fashioned guy,  _baisūnas._ "

"As am I," he paused, thoughtful, "as for chaining the Ripper...?"

"Ugh," Will groaned as though bored, as though the whole thing was obvious. " **Pick** someone  _darling_ ," he snorted, snide, "and make them believe it. It shouldn't be too difficult with your talents, I wouldn't have thought..."

Another step forward and a slow, violent, promise filled smile slunk across Hannibal's features. "You've always been so twisted, little one," he crooned, closing the remaining distance between them impossibly fast -  _dizzyingly_ fast.

"You like me that way," Will snarled, tilting his head back and baring his own throat: a dare and a temptation. How far would Hannibal go before he bent to the profiler's will? How much would he tug and pull at the challenge the blue eyed man had laid down? 

A dark, throaty chuckle was the only reply. It crawled out of his mouth and flung itself from his tongue, spilling into the room and soaking the space in itself. It spoke volumes of the man's intentions, but the European was clearly in the right mood given the way he opened his mouth to speak. "You want bodies, William," he began slowly, "I will burn down the world and drag up hell from below to give you all there is, was, and can possibly be. The fire will burn so bright, you'll be blinded and the air will become so thick with ashes, you'll choke. Then I'll have you Will, in the mud, on the hood of my car, against the walls of my house, in my bed - chained and nowhere to go.  You were too young before, you needed to see the world, but this time,  _mylimasis,_ I really  **will** keep you."

Will smirked, leaning forward and pressing his words to shell of the Doctor's ear, keeping his movements deliberately slow and teasing. He wanted to enjoy this after all.

"Now that's my kind of promise," he said, before sinking his teeth into the unmarked side of Hannibal's neck and grinning at the growl he earned in reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Terms:  
> baisūnas - monster  
> mylimasis - beloved  
> gražuolė - beauty / belle  
> kalė - bitch


	4. Chapter 4

Will woke to sound of a high pitched ringing. 

 _Ugh. Phone_.

He was more than tempted to roll over and ignore it, especially given what it had interrupted:  _bliss_. It had been the best dream he'd had in a while: him, Hannibal and a shit load of whipped cream. And not the pretentious, hand-whipped stuff but the canned, cheap nasty type that Will had used to trace the lines of his body simply because he'd wanted to arouse and piss off his monster in equal measure. The way his European had looked at him had left him eager, straining and the sheet tenting harshly. Will didn't need to roll over to know who would be calling at such a time... the sun hadn't finished climbing into the sky and was barely slinking over the horizon. There were no sounds in the house other than his phone and not even the birds were making noise. 

Oh, he had never wanted to kill Jack more. 

Will reached over blindly, pulling the phone to his ear. "Yeah," he croaked, voice low. 

" _I need you_ ," Jack started without so much as a hello. " _The scene's fresh, I've kept everyone off it. I want you to be the first in_ ," he added. 

"Right," Will continued, uninterested, eyes flicking down to his rapidly wilting erection. 

" _It looks like him, Will_ ," the Chief added. 

"Him?"

" _The Ripper_ ," he clarified. Oh, his cock twitched at that. 

"Right," he replied, wetting his lips. "Text me the address."

" _Move your ass, Will_ ," Jack said, hanging up and leaving Will more than a little interested. He dropped his phone to the bed, letting his hand drift slowly southwards and creep beneath the sheets. His boxers, much like his undershirt, were soaked through, although with a slightly different bodily fluid. He pulled them down, but only enough to let his cock spring free and the head poke over the top of his waistband. It looked painful, but the steady ooze of white wetting the tip made it easier to drag his hand over the head and steadily down his shaft. He groaned long and low - he didn't have time for it, he should probably wait too because he was sure any orgasm would be infinitely better after seeing Hannibal's gift. Hannibal's first move in their long, _long_ chess match. 

He was scrambling for his phone before he registered it. It only rung twice before the Doctor answered. 

" _Hello_ ," was the answer. Will groaned long and hard, hand dragging up and down his cock teasingly at the sound of the man's voice. There was a sharp intake of breath. " _William_ ," Hannibal replied, tone dropping so fast through the registers, it made the profiler dizzy. " _Oh my cunning boy_ ," he continued, snarling. " _Teasing little boy_." Will groaned again, squeezing and thrusting up into his fist, barely biting back the breathy exhales punching out of his mouth.  _Fuck_ , he was close; he'd been ready to blow after that dream, he felt positively desperate now. " _You're not making this easy darling,_ " Hannibal snapped. One more slick, twist,  _slide_ of his hand and Will was crying out, body going taut and back arching. His vision whited and it took more than a few heavy, eager draws of air into his lungs to clear it again. It took a few seconds after he'd calmed his heart to hear the low grunts and slick sounds that told Will  **exactly** what Hannibal was doing. The curly-haired man listened for a few moments as he dragged his finger through the come in his crotch and the wet patch now soaking his t-shirt. He felt better - loose-limbed and relaxed: more ready to face whatever Jack would throw at him verbally and the irritation he would no doubt feel from the technicians, Alana, local police and no doubt that red-headed bitch with an apparent personal vendetta and need to out him as a psychopath. Hannibal was working himself up, getting closer and closer if the time between his pants was any indication. Will hummed thoughtfully before huffing out a laugh, a smirk slinking across his face. 

_Not yet._

He hung up, tossing his phone aside and throwing back the covers. He peeled off his clothes, dropping them in the hamper on the way to the bathroom, before jumping in the shower. He felt too at ease to try and bring himself off again, so settled with washing away the evidence of his morning with punctual efficiency and scrubbing at his skin dispassionately. He had showered, dried himself off, dressed and was watching his dogs run about outside, a bowl of measly cereal in his hand, before his phone buzzed again. Jack, with an address, and another, less than polite encouragement that he hurry. Will huffed out a sigh, whistled to his dogs, packed up and meandered out to his car, hot coffee in one hand and teaching files in his other. He was once again the teacher - the broken, on-the-spectrum man with too blue eyes and a dark sense of humour that made others uncomfortable. It wasn't his best persona, but it was, by far, one of the most comfortable. Being  _that_ version of himself was like slipping into a pair of well-worn shoes. He knew what to expect and he never felt too out of sorts. 

He spent most of the journey fantasising, although less about the crime scene - he was sure that nothing he could conjure in his mind would come close to Hannibal's vision for him - and more about what life they could have together. Will would be lying if he said he hadn't been surprised by Hannibal's confession at wanting to  _keep_ him. Partly, of course, because despite the affection running deep on his part, he'd never considered that the older man saw him as anything other than a fuckable protegee: someone to indulge in but not stay with. A fling, a fancy, so to speak. To hear how Hannibal had wanted Will to see the world first, how he was too young  _then_ had offered a hope that they could be more than they were. It was a flame Will had never allowed himself to fan - his personality latching onto things so easily, it would have been dangerous to consider an impossibility. 

It wasn't an impossibility anymore. 

The crime scene was relatively busy. In fact more so than usual, although the heavy presence of the local police were no doubt inflating the numbers of people scurrying around like worker ants. He spotted the familiar, flaming red hair of Freddie Lounds before he'd even put the car in park, but it took a moment to pick out Katz, Zeller and Price. Jack, however, was just as obvious as the 'journalist', striding around like a bull in a china shop, nostrils just as flared and eyes just as wide. Will wondered how Jack thought he could be subtle or gentle with anything, he was so stubborn headed and forceful. Just as he'd predicted, Alana was there too. He couldn't see the woman, but her car was parked three up from his, the sight prodding at the durability of the zen-like state he'd acquired after his more than satisfying orgasm. His inner-peace held for the moment, but he'd not seen her yet. 

Jack barely let him exit the car before he was stomping over to meet him. Will plastered his traditional half frown in place and dropped his eyes as the Guru crowded over him. "You're late," he said by way of greeting. Will huffed in response, slurping on the cold dregs of what remained of his coffee, and nodded as a silent instruction to take him to the body. 

"It's soup," Price warned as he passed, pausing to offer Will a set of gloves, which he refused with a grimace. His mind turned as they passed more officers, but then they rounded the corner and stepped into the motel room, and Will realised he was right. 

He could never have imagined  _that_.  

"Name's Douglas J. Fielding," Jack began in that tone that told Will there was something about the victim that he should know, "and he was found by the manager." A slight deviation to jerk his head at a man covered in the bright orange of a shock blanket out in the car-park was enough of an explanation. There was a pause as Will drank in the sight. "Alright," the Chief shouted, "clear the room." Several technicians looked up in frustration, begrudgingly leaving, dragging their feet as they did. Some sent glares Will's way, but he only handed Jack his empty flask and gestured that he wait outside. He nodded and shut the door behind him. 

It was beautiful. 

Douglas was sat upright on the bed, long legs stretching out beneath him, wearing trousers and nothing else. His chest had been cracked open, ribs bent back on themselves, flayed out like the chest cavity had been opened like a pair of double doors. The skin, loose from the abuse, had been rolled up and tucked inside his open chest cavity, out of the way where he was less unsightly. His mouth was open and his expression panicked - no doubt Hannibal's intent given the bouquet of Irises shoved down his throat. The stalks had been pulled through his skin, sharp and deadly looking, and they dripped blood into his lap. Lilacs and Lavender filled the empty cavity, but they too had been stained red by the blood of the victim. The whole bed was stained red with it.

It was simple, but typically Hannibal. Will couldn't help but snort, because it was kind of sweet to send your sweetheart flowers. He turned to open the door and let Jack in. 

"It's him," Will said, trying to look confused as he dragged a hand over his face and took his flask back out of Jack's hand. 

"...and?" the Guru prompted. 

"I'm no flower expert Jack, but I can guarantee that these all mean something. And I'm pretty sure it's going to mean affection."

"Affection?" High-pitched and surprised, Zeller butted into the conversation. 

Will snorted again, ignoring the warm spread creeping through him at his conclusion. "He's wooing a long lost love Jack," he smiled tightly, "this is a gift."

"Wait," Zeller again, "The  _Ripper_ has himself a  ** _girlfriend_**?!"

"Not yet," Will responded, voice tight before moving away and fishing his phone from his pocket. 

" _Will,"_ Hannibal replied, sounding more wound up than Will thought he would be. He smirked. _Oh_.

"You waited," he grinned. 

A huff, almost displeasure. " _You know I did_ ," was the reply. 

Will laughed. "Well, thank you for my bouquet this morning," he began, smiling darkly and ducking his head, "it was beautiful."

" _You're welcome._ "

"Are you alone?" Will asked, voice sultry. 

"... _yes_."

"Go on then  _baisūnas_." 

There was silence before a long, desperate exhale of breath. Some rustling and then: " _Will_."

"Go on Hannibal," he urged, biting his lip as he listened to his favourite monster bring himself to the edge. And when he was close: "Come for me,  _baisūnas_." The European groaned, half snarling as he let go. Will let the man have a few minutes to compose himself before he spoke again. "A good start."

"... _Thank you_ ," he exhaled. " _Can I interest you in dinner?"_

"As long as it's just dinner," Will laughed, "I need some boundaries when it comes to you."

" _Why_?"

Will laughed but didn't reply, instead glancing up at the impatient face Jack was currently throwing at him from a distance. "I have to go, I'll see you later."

" _Until later_   _gražuolė_ ," Hannibal murmured, " _good luck catching your Ripper._ "

 _My Ripper_ , Will thought. He couldn't help but laugh again, shuttering his darkness as Jack drew closer. "I'm a good fisherman Hannibal, I'll reel him in no problem." 

"Will!" Jack called. The profiler nodded, tucking his phone away, his monster's chuckle still echoing in his ear.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone.   
> I'm sorry for the crazy-insane long break between updates and they'll still probs be some wait even when I carry on with this. I have returned to this hallowed hall of Hannibal and offer my apologies for my abrupt and rather rude absence (and we all know what happens to the rude). In explanation, it was a bit shit and life took a serious nosedive. My brother was in a car accident and, well, as you can imagine everything went sideways. I didn't really have the motivation to do anything, let alone write. And then about a month ago, I found this letter my brother wrote for my birthday years ago and it was crazy beautiful and I cried and I thought, ya know, I have to keep moving forward. So. I'm back. I can't promise it'll be regimented, but I'mma try and finish these stories for you!  
> Make sure you're all safe, everyone.   
> I love you all.

Will found himself anticipating dinner more than he expected to. Jack had been particularly difficult for the rest of the day - the Ripper managing to crawl underneath his skin in a way that no other serial killer could - and that meant that Will was desperate to drop the wooden facade of his mask, and who best to do so with than the man who helped fashion the very thing?  He knew his monster would try something with him too - he couldn't not. Hannibal might try standing just a little too close, or perhaps he might wear  _those_ trousers, that made his thighs bulge and the strain of his cock just a little more obvious. He may even forego all sense of subtly and stride, stark naked, erection jutting shamelessly out in front, knowing Will could do little other than drop to his knees, salivating. The thought alone was dizzying. He may have set the ground rules, but Will knew his monster, and he was as dangerous and as unpredictable as any wild, feral thing. It was made him so special, after all. Their dinner would be an interesting war of words, wants and tantalizing temptations, all things Will craved desperately. He had not become so aware of how much he had missed Hannibal until he had slithered back into his life.  

It took him only moments to chose what he would wear for the evening: slimming, neat, grey trousers; a tailored, crisp, white shirt; and, just because he could, a charcoal grey suit vest that brought in his waist and made him look both incredibly respectable, but also incredibly fuckable. His fashion sense, while often straying towards the comfortable, had learned just enough from the Lithuanian to create the image of a well-dressed, sophisticated young man. Will forewent his glasses and left his curls loose and soft, knowing full-well his eyes and hair were Hannibal's favourite features and two things the man struggled to say no to. When he glanced in the mirror before departing, he found a ghost of a smile pulling at the edges of his lips. Let the game begin, he thought. 

It was not a long drive to Hannibal's house but it felt like it. Every glowing street lamp, streaking out in a orange blur against the black tarmac, blinked past him sluggishly. Even when he inched the needle higher, pushing the speed limit, it still felt as though he was driving through treacle. He knew it was the anticipation. The desperation to see just what his darling  _baisūnas_ was going to do, or try. It was late when he arrived, probably at least forty minutes past when Hannibal was expecting him, and while Will had been eager to reach his European, he had to stick to his boundaries for as long as he could. There was no game otherwise. Not to mention, of course, that Hannibal's interest and desire of Will no doubt stemmed from his uniqueness, and the curly haired man didn't want to risk loosing his European's focus too early on in the insane dance they were beginning to embark upon. He cared for the man too much. If he was honest with himself, he worried often about what Hannibal would think if he every saw Will again - and Will, too drunk on the notion of being near the Lithuanian again, desperately wanted to meet then supersede any and all expectations. 

The place was as beautiful and as pretentious as he expected. Hannibal, it seemed, had not only met Will's, and his own, standards, but surpassed them, creating a stunning, sophisticated mask in which to hide behind. It was perfectly crafted, despite the intricacies and the undeniable difficulties in doing so. There was an overwhelming sense of pride that raced through him, followed quickly, and violently, by longing - an emotion that shocked Will - because he suddenly wanted nothing more than to share in that. He had meant what he said to Hannibal about being a partner in all things, about being paraded around like best in show, yet it hit him just how much he would actually enjoy that. His unexpected emotion wasn't the only surprise, however, as he turned into the driveway and put the car in park. As while the gleaming, black Bentley was, without doubt, Hannibal's, the second, older,  _cheaper_ car was most certainly not.  

It seemed he wasn't the only guest invited to their reunion meal. 

What. A. Fucking. Monster. 

His longing made way for anger, then for the familiar thrill that burnt his veins when he hunted as he clambered from the car. Perhaps that was the intention of his _baisūnas,_ to drive up the bloodlust swilling around in his system...? Maybe this was to be his next gift? - the gift of a kill, christening their reunion. Although surely Hannibal would have struggled to keep that to himself... which meant that this was a move in their match, not a present waiting to be presented by a courtier, as Will hoped. Then came a crash of almost despair - because they weren't going to have the meal that Will had been so desperately craving. He heaved in a steadying breath, then rapped his knuckles harshly against the wood before slipping his hands into his pockets and waiting. It took only half a dozen heartbeats before the door swung open and revealed Hannibal.

There was a moment where Will felt a smug sense of joy because even though the Lithuanian probably had the upper hand, he didn't the moment he greeted him. In that moment he was struck stupidly mute because he clearly hadn't expected Will to arrive clad in the clothes he was. He had probably thought he'd be in slacks and his work shirt, not sharply dressed in clothes Hannibal himself would have chosen for him. Will smirked almost cruelly as he drank in the sight of the blown, black pupils. "I bet you're really relishing inviting others, eh  _baisūnas_?" he murmured, stepping closer and dropping his tone. Two could play at that game, he thought.  

"You said we had boundaries," he replied tightly, eyes tracking his every movement. 

Will smirked again. "Well now we definitely do." They were stood too closely for the supposed strangers they were. They were stood far too closely considering not only the company that awaited them, but their position straddling his doorway. 

"Come in,  _mylimasis,_ " he finally murmured, conceding, and pressing a sweet, gentle kiss to the corner of Will's mouth, before stepping out of the way. Something akin to a blush rose in the profiler's cheeks at the gesture. Will slipped past him, ducking his head slightly in a bizarre and sudden bashfulness. The door clicked shut behind them and Hannibal's hand entwined in his as he led him toward the kitchen. It was startling domestic and while that made him feel slightly mushy inside, a greater part of him realised that the gesture was more likely an apology in disguise. An apology because Will wasn't going to like just  _who_ Hannibal had brought to their dinner. Their hands fell apart as they stepped into the brightly lit, stainless steel kitchen that demonstrated not only Hannibal's wealth, but also his incredible proficiency with knives. And there, perched on a bar stool, dress hitched up to bare her leg almost up to the hip, was Alana- _fucking_ -Bloom. It didn't take an Empath to see what she wanted: Hannibal, between her thighs, cock drilling her with harsh, even thrusts while she cried out her pleasure into his high-thread count sheets. She turned slightly in her seat, wine in her hand, lips parted just so and his monster's name on her lips before she saw him.  

"Oh,  _Will_?" she said, tone confused, looking over at Hannibal, before glancing back. She took a moment to actually  _look_ at him then and Will could see the way her pupils blew. She was probably imagining all three of them together and judging from the way she shifted her weight and rubbed her legs together, she was wet at the thought. "You look good," she commented before hesitating again. "I didn't know you were coming?"

"Apologies, Alana," Hannibal cut in smoothly, "I thought I'd mentioned that William would be joining us."

Her eyebrow rose. "You, uh, know each other...?"

"We met in Jack's office," Will replied with a shrug. "But we will be working together Alana, especially if Jack gets his way and I'm profiled every five minutes," he snorted bitterly, letting his persona wrap around him like a blanket once more. No rest for him tonight then, it seemed. Alana seemed not to notice anything amiss. 

"You do look good though," she said again. 

"Well, you get told enough you need to make a good impression, eventually you try to," he snapped, poking at her guilt. 

"Would you like to both take a seat in the dining room?" Hannibal cut in, hovering over Will's shoulder and knowing that without intervention, there would be bloodshed. Alana smiled, simpering, and followed his request, disappearing through a set of double doors. As soon as she was out of sight, Will turned to the European with a snarl, eyes wide, and shoved at him.

" ** _Alana_** _ **?!**_ " he growled, crowding him against the island. "Of all the people? - her? Really? The one woman who thinks I want to fuck her? Who likes to pull at my thoughts and carve her name into my brain? Did you want to fuck me or did you want me to cut off your fucking dick? For fuckssake Hannibal," he spat as he reached behind him and snatched Hannibal's wine glass from the counter-top, downing it in one swig, before snatching the bottle up too, pouring as he turned on his heel and stalked into the dining room. He felt Hannibal's eyes on him, then drop down to his ass, then back up again. Will wasn't sure whether he was too furious to be smug or not at the obvious attention his rear was getting.

The woman was sat on the right hand side, perched primly on her chair. She smiled almost kindly at him and Will pushed down the hunting instinct that burned his blood and smiled back. Oh, he would be spending most of the evening fantasizing about killing the bitch. He took his seat opposite. Alana leaned forward as he settled, almost as though one conspirator might to another. "Hannibal's cooking is just fantastic, Will," she enthused, "you'll love it." There was a pause. "We eat together regularly," she confided and Will wasn't sure if that was an attempt to inspire jealousy or simply trying to make conversation. Hannibal entered soon afterwards, though, preventing Will from replying. He wheeled in their food on a pretentious silver dining cart that made Will snort into his wine. There was no reaction to suggest either had heard him but Will wouldn't rule out the mockery being taken out on his ass at a later date. He knew there were several things that he himself would take out on Hannibal's form. 

Will didn't listen to what Hannibal was telling them they would be eating, no doubt because it  _wasn't_ that, so he just smiled politely and embraced the teacher that Alana knew, asking quiet, non-intrusive questions about the woman's day and obliging her when she returned with questions as to his thoughts on the current case. It was tedious and, after half an hour, mind numbing. Part of him was growing in frustration at not being able to peel off the person suit he so often wore, but the burning heat of Hannibal's thigh pressed against his own kept his temper in check and eventually dulled it completely. By the time his handsome serial killer was wheeling dessert in on another ridiculous tray, something heavy and almost foggy had settled over him. It wasn't calm, it was almost a reluctant acceptance, and Will wasn't entirely sure what it was. It took him a moment to realise that he was actually tired. Bone tired. But it was something  _more_ than that, too. The thrill of the evening had melted away, slipping through his fingers. It wasn't the first time such a thing had happened, but it was rare enough to startle him. Maybe his work for Jack was having a bigger impact than he realised, if he was letting his anger slide off his bones even in the face of competition. He was almost embarrassed at not being able to follow through on his threats to his Doctor, but trying to sustain his anticipation for the meal and simply _being_ with Hannibal in the face of Alana was draining him quicker than he thought possible and he was in danger of curling up on the table to rest. The time to spend with the man who had changed his whole world view was something he'd been craving all day - pushing him through Jack's snide remarks and threats - and he hadn't even managed to speak to him freely, let alone lean into his frame and just _breathe_. Fucking and being held were two different things, he knew, and he'd only sworn Hannibal off one of them. 

"This truly is delicious, Hannibal," Alana praised again. Will grunted his own approval. Hannibal raised an eyebrow, something like concern in his gaze. He knew he'd read the situation wrong - no doubt a retaliation for Will making him wait early that morning - but hadn't garnered how big a step back inviting Alana had been after the beautiful bouquet he'd created. "Don't you think so Will?" the woman continued, cheeks rosy with wine.

"Yeah," the man forced out, fatigue growing stronger with every passing moment. Alana smiled, unaware, and turned back to Hannibal. 

"You are having a dinner party soon, aren't you?" she asked, before dropping her voice. "They are simply wonderful."

"One cannot force inspiration, Alana," Hannibal chuckled, eyes quickly flickering back over to Will. 

 _Ugh. _ That was enough.

He'd had enough.

Fuck, he was tired. 

"I think," he began, letting the growing misery and dreariness leak into his tone, "that I need to be getting home."

"Ah, Will," Alana began, her voice betraying the eagerness at his suggestion, "what a shame." It was not a shame. She was more than happy he leave her and Hannibal alone, but judging by the narrowed glint in the European's eye, he was far from excited by this prospect. Will stood slowly and Hannibal rose with him. "I'll see you tomorrow?" Alana asked and the profiler only nodded in reply, instead turning on his heel and letting Hannibal walk him from the room. 

"Are you -"

"M' fine, Han," Will murmured, "just tired."

"Darling," Hannibal murmured, worried, reaching to smooth a thumb over his cheek, acting unusually hesitant. "Are you angry with me?"

"Was. Not now, jus' tired," he parroted before giving a ghost of a smile. "Part of me wanted to jus' fall 'sleep in front of your fire," he confessed, shrugging once before dragging his coat around himself. "It's been a long day," he added at the mournful expression on Hannibal's face.

" _William_ -" 

"You must think I'm full of hot air," Will huffed, cutting him off, "all those promises..."

"Keep them another time," Hannibal whispered. "Stay, Will, stay. We can -"

"Moment's gone," Will replied, shrugging once more. "Another time, maybe."

"Will..."

"S'alright," he grimaced, turning away.

"Darling, please stay," Hannibal asked again, hand returning to his cheek. "Let me apologise for my truly terrible manners."

Will chuckled, half a smile on his face. "Dogs," he returned regretfully before he paused. "Don't fuck her," he asked, blush staining his cheeks. 

His tumultuous eyes narrowed. "I was never going to,  _mylimasis._ " A pause. "How could I even look at another when you are near?"

Will smiled softly, before noticing a flicker in the corner of his eye. Maybe even in his drowsy state he could still make a move while doing what he had wanted to do since walking into the house earlier in the evening. He lifted his hand up to trace Hannibal's lips gently. "C'mre," he murmured. His monster moved willingly, bending to meet Will and accept the kiss. It was slow and sensual and distinctly lacking in the frenetic intensity of their usual couplings. It felt so incredibly domestic and Will relished both the moment and the quiet, sharp inhale of breath over their shoulders. Hannibal's hands dropped low, cupping his ass and pulling him flush, causing Will to laugh into their kiss and break away. The Lithuanian followed after him and Will laughed again. "I have to go," he said again. "M' tired," he paused, "and no doubt imma' have another body in the morning," he smiled gently, a loaded look in his eyes, "the Ripper, he rips in threes, ya know." Hannibal smiled and nodded, sensing the lifeline that Will was casting. 

"He does," the European agreed, swooping back in to press a much more heated kiss to Will's lips, walking the blue eyed man back until he was pressed against the door desperately trying to keep up with the intensity of Hannibal's passion. Will broke the kiss again, huffing out little bubbling laughs. 

"Stop it," he chuckled, "you're supposed to be hosting."

"I am."

"You're terrible," Will snorted, noticing Alana still lingering in the wings, watching closely, in his peripheral. "You're lucky you're such a good lay." Hannibal grinned, hands dropping to beneath Will's thighs before hoisting him up. He squealed unattractively, instinctively wrapping his legs around the older man's hips and his arms around his neck, and couldn't help but smile, because this was what they used to do. Before a hunt, after a kill, before sex, after sex, in the morning, during the day, at night - it didn't matter. Hannibal had a thing for having Will in his arms and Will loved nothing more than peering down at his monster through his curls, meeting the man's eyes and bathing in the lusting adoration often found there. "Fuck I missed you," he breathed, unable to keep the words inside. 

There was a loud creak of the floorboards and immediately Hannibal glanced over. Alana wasn't visible to him but from his perch atop of the Doctor's hips, Will could make out her silhouette. She could see them. She could see everything they were to each other and no doubt she could hear them too. Hear the desperate affection in their tones and the boiling, eager lust. Will turned back, dropping a quick kiss to Hannibal's lips before detaching himself and stepping back. "Night Han."

"Goodnight  _mylimasis,_ " he echoed, "will you call me when you are home safely?"

Will laughed quietly. "There's nothin' out there that scares me Hannibal," he murmured, dropping another kiss on the man's lips, seemingly unable to help himself, before backing away and opening the front door.   

A quiet chuckle, then: "until tomorrow, darling." Will glanced back and smiled, nodded once, before climbing into his car and backing down the driveway. The front door remained open as Hannibal watched him disappear out of sight and Will couldn't help but wonder just what Alana would do in light of her discovery. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to all of you. you've been incredibly lovely and kind and thoughtful and that's amazing. and thank you for sticking by this, even with the crazy break. 
> 
> next chapter will be a couple of weeks, but hopefully a sassy-ass Will will be compensation.  
> stay safe everyone.

There was a frenzy to Will's dreams he hadn't been expecting. After the domesticity of their goodbye and the quiet, hushed murmurs of reassurance after he returned home, he was sure any dreams involving Hannibal would be calm, gentle and revolve around sharing space and thoughts the way most couples did.

It was far from that. 

Hannibal sat watching him, eyes pinned to his form, hand palming himself through his slacks. His pupils were blown, eclipsed black and violent, they made a shiver of want crawl down Will's spine. Occasionally he'd open his mouth and praise Will - talk in those velvet tones about how  _good_ his boy was, and about how  _eager_ and  _desperate_ he was. For the first time, Will agreed, because he _was_ desperate. He'd been sat on Hannibal's bed, naked and flushed, erection jutting skywards proudly, hole practically gaping as he forced another lube-slick finger inside himself, drunk on the anticipation of his monster finally giving in and fucking him. It felt like hours, the way dreams often did when you were waiting for something, and Will was burning up, flapping sporadically or digging his fingernails into the mattress, because Hannibal hadn't said he could touch. After an age, Hannibal stood and stalked forward, pulling his fingers free and replacing them with his own. 

"Will," he'd crooned, digging through the copious slick that drenching himself in lube had left, "you're so  _wet_ for me."

He'd smiled slyly, then produced, as if from nowhere, a veined, purple monstrosity of a dildo. He slicked it with lube, hands gliding up and down the plastic, before lining it up and pushing it brutally inside. It filled him to capacity and stretched out his insides. He'd sobbed at the stretch because even on four fingers, his hole was still too tight to yield to the hard plastic - but Hannibal made it. He twisted in first left, then right, forcing it to carve open space inside the profiler. Then he began fucking him with it. Unrelenting, powerful, harsh thrusts that made him ache as his body tried to reject the blunt object brutalising him. Within moments Will was clawing at the sheets, crying out Hannibal's name and gasping every breath. He felt completely owned and  _desperate_ with the need to own Hannibal as thoroughly. It felt like hours of intensity, with Will slipping out of his headspace and into Hannibal's and back again with every ram of the purple dick against his flushed rim. The dirty, squelching sound had almost gone - dried up with the relentless friction - and in place was a sticky, dragging sound as the dildo was forced through the tacky residue that clung to his insides and had smeared on his skin, which made him feel both filthy and dazed. He was babbling mindlessly when Hannibal finally pulled free the fake, tossing it over his shoulder and inching forward, freeing himself as so to feed himself into Will's body. The radiating heat and the beautiful, intense pressure faded with a single, dirty roll of Hannibal's hips, when he was swallowed up to the root in a matter of seconds. Will gasped, clenching down hard and enjoying the feral growl that radiated through Hannibal's chest, moving down to where they were fused.

Then he began to fuck.

In his haste, the Lithuanian hadn't even rid himself of clothes, meaning the zip of his trousers dragged its way along Will's skin with every snap of his hips. The coupling was wild and claiming. Hannibal, proving his dominance and authority, while ensuring that every time he fucked into Will, his cock stabbed at the younger man's prostate, and Will drawing blood as he torn open his monster's back with his nails. It was never-ending. Again and again, Hannibal forced himself inside, and Will found himself clinging helplessly to the man, limp with the exhaustion of being made to wait for so long. His monster opened his mouth to say something, probably giving him permission to finally let go, when Will found himself pulled into reality and wide awake, the light from the window breaking his fantasy in an instant.  

His soaked sheets told him that while he'd gained no pleasure from it, he'd definitely come at some point in the night. 

"Fuck," he muttered. He was drenched, and had probably been steadily leaking for hours. He was only half-hard, but given the lukewarm slick of his cock, he'd come recently enough for that to be a surprising resilience of his refractory period.  

A pair of low whines from somewhere in the living room told him his dogs were eager to be let out. Will huffed, threw back the covers, stripped off his boxers and hastily wiped himself down, before pulling on a pair of dirty sweatpants from his hamper and wandering through. His pack jumped up to meet him, some sniffing brazenly at his crotch, tilting their heads in curiosity. He batted them away and instead ushered them outside before flicking on the coffee maker, letting his mind drift. Thoughts of Hannibal came unbidden. Thoughts of them embracing domesticity together before pulling the night around them like a cloak and wading out into the darkness to cut and kill and  _rip_ until their monsters were sated. It was a tempting notion - as it had been ten years ago. To be so true to oneself with another was something Will knew he'd never truly have outside of the Lithuanian. But he could. And Hannibal wanted it. 

He'd been told enough times by his colleagues, his teachers, his superiors and even, during class, his inferiors, that people like him - the violent, frightening serial murders who stalked through nightmares - could never love. He'd been told so often he'd begun to believe it. Maybe that wasn't true anymore. There was something so intrinsically dizzying about Hannibal that set his blood alight and his stomach fluttering in anticipation. Maybe it wasn't love, but it wasn't just lust. Will knew lust. He'd spent years praying on lust, learning it, understanding it. It could be a complicated mix of both. Maybe it wasn't love - maybe it was the closest people like him could get to love. He cared for Hannibal, he knew. He was overwhelmingly invested in him. He wanted to consume and absorb every second of his time, his focus, his affections. He didn't want the man sleeping with or entertaining others. He wanted to watch as he killed, cooked, read, composed, drew - he wanted to know every inch of the man, and possess all of it too. If that wasn't love then it was something more powerful. A dangerous notion, perhaps, but something frighteningly unhinging. 

He was so lost in thought, he didn't hear either the crunch of car tires on the gravel, nor the quiet knock on the door and not even the soft footfall on his floor. He did however react to the half breath on the back of his neck and, without thinking, spun round, the nearest knife he had, arching down swiftly to the intruder. Hannibal's eyes widened and he barely managed to dive out of the way. Will gasped, pulling back and tossing the knife into the sink behind him. "Shit,  _sorry_ ," he exclaimed, hands coming to roughly manipulate Hannibal's face to ensure he'd not hurt the man. 

"I think it's I who should apologise," Hannibal replied, half a smile on his face, allowing the assessment, "I did knock, and call your name, but I should have been more careful not to startle you."

"Yeah, sorry," Will blushed, now embarrassed, "I was miles away." There was a pause. "I didn't expect to see you this morning."

"Clearly," came the response before the European chuckled at Will's discomfort. "I didn't manage to hunt last night," he began, "so I thought I might come to see you, apologise in person."

"No need to apologise," Will snorted, finally giving into his desires and folding himself into the chest of the man. Immediately Hannibal's arms wrapped around him, tight and possessive, and Will hummed contentedly, enjoying the closeness. 

"Are you better this morning...?" Hannibal eventually murmured, voice caressing his ear. 

"Sleepy, but not tired," Will mumbled through the red jumper his Lithuanian had chosen to wear that morning. In fact it was perhaps the most casual that Will had seen Hannibal dress since their reunion. A deep breath from the older man before arms snaked down under his thighs and once more he was in the air, wrapped tightly around Hannibal's body like an octopus. A pleased rumbled sounded in his chest that Will echoed immediately, pressing a thankful kiss to the underside of his monster's jaw. They moved through into the living room, finding a seat in the soft armchair occupying most of the space. Will found himself curling up to fit in Hannibal's lap, breaths coming in soft half-huffs as he settled. A hand had slipped beneath his shirt and was tracing patterns on his skin mindlessly. 

"Alana had some questions after you left," Hannibal rumbled, tone particularly neutral. "About the nature of our relationship."

"Mmm."

"She saw us part," the Doctor continued. 

"Mmm."

"Saw our kiss." The hand had stilled. "It was quite a difficult situation for me."

Will glanced up from beneath his curls. "I wanted to kiss you, so I did," he began, "and when I saw her, I wanted to make sure she knew you were mine. I didn't want you sleeping with her."

"I told you I would never -"

"She didn't know that," Will muttered darkly. "It wasn't a move for the sake of a move, Han. I didn't kiss you because I saw her. I wanted to kiss you all night. I just satisfied two urges with one action."

There was silence for a moment. "You staked your claim on me," Hannibal said softly. 

"...Did you not want me too?" Fear and uncertainly rose sharply in Will then, his muscles going tense. The hand on his back began moving again. 

"Darling, of course I did," he whispered, "we both know where this is going." Another pause. "Jack arrests the Ripper so there's no doubtful thoughts about us, and I keep you." Something warm swelled in Will at the man's casual words and a blush spread over his cheeks. "And then I believe the promise was that I can parade you around like the best in show," he chuckled, grip tightening again, "I look forward to the day."

Will laughed brightly. "You're just looking forward to getting your dick back in my ass," he grinned, snorting at the pupils in Hannibal's eyes blew at the words. 

"That too."

They laughed together for a moment before lapsing into silence. Will broke it first. "Was she upset - Alana I mean - when she saw us? She wanted you so desperately, you know."

"Shocked, more so. She asked what was going on and how long we'd known each other. I told her we were lovers many years ago, parted in an unfortunate set of circumstances that it was not her business to know. I told her we were delighted to see each other again and that we both agreed that to not pick up where we left off and attempt to forge a permanent future together was sacrilegious. I said that we were going to tell her about our coupling so we might have an ally when informing Jack when we felt the time was appropriate, but you were unsure when faced with the situation. It was that uncertainty and your tiredness that led you to leave early."

There was a long, heavy silence, before Will smiled. "Your silver tongue is a work of art," he murmured, nudging at his monster's head to gain access to his lips, where he dropped a sweet, but lingering, kiss. He pulled away, smiling softly, happy to see his expression was mirrored on Hannibal's face. 

The hand at his back dropped to rub soothing circles at his hip and it only took a few moments before the older man's eyes narrowed. His thumb dipped inside Will's waistband, meeting the soft skin and tracing downwards an inch or two. He sighed heavily. "Must you test me so?" he asked, tone almost petulant. 

Will chuckled. "Didn't mean to," he confessed, "but I had a dream about us and opening the door to my house dressed in my night-clothes after that wouldn't have been civilised." 

"A good dream then," Hannibal muttered, half smug, half enraptured as he revealed yet more skin. His fingers traced southwards, slowly, as if waiting for Will to pull away, but the curly haired man didn't move. 

"Oh yeah," he replied, resting his head on Hannibal's shoulder, but keeping his body arched far enough away to let his monster explore. "Tell me who you've picked to take the fall for the Ripper," he said as cock began to stir slightly at the hand inching closer. 

It took Hannibal a moment to gather himself in reply. "There's a man, a Doctor, by the name of Frederick Chilton," he began, stopping and finally cupping his hand around Will's growing interest. "He's a failed medical student, incredibly arrogant and has, on many occasions, used unethical psychological practices on his patients." He wrapped his fingers around Will and gave a long, slow stroke. The man groaned at the sensation. 

"And..." he muttered, arching into the loose fist that his Doctor had created. 

"And he's currently the Director at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane," he continued, building up a slow, torturous pace as Will shifted in his lap and began to roll his hips. "He's been there for a few years and thinks himself untouchable. He likes to boast about his achievements. He is quite a rude individual." He dragged his thumb over Will's slit and he groaned loudly, jerking forward as though electrocuted.

"How...?" Will gasped, eyes fluttering shut as he threw his head back and picked up the pace, rolling his hips fasted and faster, grinding himself against Hannibal. 

"A patient named Abel Gideon believes himself the Ripper," Hannibal muttered, voice distracted and low, "but only because Doctor Chilton wants him to believe it."

"A fraud," Will breathed, "he wants to own you, he wants to  _have you_." He moaned again. "But you'll make them see -"

"Jack will see a man trying to cover his tracks," Hannibal finished for him, tightening his grip. "I've got evidence to plant, documents, trophies. It will be just convincing enough." 

"He'll never get you... it's profanity to even th-think he could c-c-catch you," he choked out, rutting quickening now. He could feel Hannibal's hardening bulge underneath him, getting larger and firmer with every movement. Will was getting close. "He fits the profile... _oh, fuck_... and he'll see,  _ah_ , what messing with the R-Ripper does.  _Oh, Hannibal_. H-How will you kill A-Abel? He thinks he's...  _Hannibal."_

"Darling," Hannibal growled, all composure gone, "you're so beautiful. Ah _, gražuolė,_ my darling, my  _mylimasis_. I'll let you kill him,  _mylimasis_ ," he whispered, "so you can exact your revenge on him. I'll watch, I'll watch you, _mylimasis,_  as you work. My Will, my love."

" _Hannibal_ ," Will breathed, low and throaty and desperate. Images of his dream, mixed with images of he and Hannibal hunting together swam beneath his eyelids, blurring until they were rutting like animals in the blood of their kills. The European tightened his grip  _just so_ and twisted his hand, and Will was lost. Arching harshly, he thrust forward one final time, before jerking out his release. The blood roared in his ears and a pounding sensation struck up in his temple. His fingers dug in harshly, making him cling to Hannibal while he shook. Mouth agape, neck bared and eyes shut, he had no doubt his monster was enjoying the show. 

It took a few moments to centre himself, but Hannibal's teeth in the side of his neck as he rutted forward and came in his trousers definitely helped bring him down from his high. His eyes opened in surprise and he watched as Hannibal snarled and growled as he jerked, the hand still wet with Will's come stripping his cock so to milk himself for all he could. He sucked a violent, purple bruise over the bite before pulling his hand free. Will immediately moved, licking a broad stripe across his palm and taking as much of their combined essence as he could. He sucked each finger clean and only when he was satisfied did he meet Hannibal's eyes once again. "Good plan," he offered languidly, glancing down at their matching wet patches staining their crotches. 

"Better than the dream?" Hannibal croaked after a few moments. 

Will smiled gently, thumb coming up to trace the European's bottom lip. "Not quite. Although, to be fair, there's very little better in this world than having you defile me first with a dildo, and then with your glorious cock, after sitting and watching me finger myself open for you," he grinned, enjoying the lust flair up in his monster's eyes. 

"I thought you weren't allowing this," Hannibal murmured, squeezing Will through his damp sweatpants. The man hissed, too sensitive. 

"Nuh-uh," he shook his head, "I said you'd only get to fuck me, to bend me over the nearest surface, when you'd finished courting me and sowing up all loose ends with the Ripper," he explained. "So it all comes down to how long can you cope with the occasional hand-job. How long can you sustain yourself before you need more? How long before I get tired of waiting and offer my ass up to someone else for them to fuck sloppy...?"

There was a spine-tingling roar as Hannibal pitched forward, standing too fast and stalking over to Will's bed where the sheets were still in disarray. He was tossed down and immediately the Ripper launched himself at the profiler quicker than Will thought possible and loomed over him. It seemed as though Hannibal were not in control of his own limbs. "How many others have you offered this ass too, little one?"

Will smirked. "Jack. First time, they were making the decision to allow my participation with cases," he began, spreading his legs wide, amused when Hannibal seemed to make himself bigger to occupy the new space, "I made sure he picked me," he licked his lips in delight at the sheer fury painting Hannibal's features. "We went to a bar, just to talk, and slowly, after a couple of drinks, he couldn't help himself. He put his hand on my thigh and after an hour it was practically on my cock. He kept inching closer and closer. He talked nothing but shop, but he was so hard. I could see it, bulging out his suit trousers. God, he was hard. So I said I needed to hit the head. I let him follow me. I played naive when he asked, when he told me that he wanted. Told him I was virginal down there.  _Fuck,_ that made his harder. He got behind me, his hands on my hips, and told me to put my hands on the sink. It took him twenty minutes to finger me open - he had no idea what he was doing - but then he lined up and just _fucked_ his way in. He made me watch him. Made me look in the mirror as he rutted against my ass. Fuck he was so big and he went and went and  _went_. I was dripping sweat, my shirt was drenched and my nipples, he twisted them, teased them, flicked them, called them my pretty little titties. After he nutted in my ass he was hooked. He'd come to see me for case updates just so he could come in my hole. He plugged me up once, when I was bursting with him. I was swollen, stomach bloated with all the come he'd pumped up my ass, and he pulled out a plug so I would have to walk around knowing what a little come-slut I was," he paused for affect, watching the man still hovering over him fight the urge to erase whatever claim he thought Jack had staked on him. Will found it incredibly amusing that his monster thought any word of what he'd just said was true. Like he'd ever let Jack -  _Jack_ \- anywhere near his ass? His ass was Hannibal's, and only Hannibal's, so he was barely stopping himself from giggling as he lied about all the things he'd fantasised about doing with his monster. "Then there was Zeller," he continued, intrigued to see just how far he could push the boat out. "He's a kinky fucker," Will began, biting his lip, "and he liked me loose and open - desperate for him. He thought about tying me down, letting his old college pals ream my ass out, forcing me to take one after the other," Hannibal was snarling now, lips pealed back from his teeth in his anger and disgust, "but he liked the thought of it being just him. He bought a fucking machine, eventually, after a few shitty attempts to replicate my being fucked loose for him. Strapped me down and off it went. First time I managed forty minutes, but by the ninth, I was there for four and a half hours, just taking it over and over. I was out of my mind, then, and practically incoherent when he fucked me." He paused again, barely hiding a smile. "I had a few Johns too, but the best was probably Alana, with a strap on," he said, holding onto a straight face. Hannibal blinked in surprise before confusion and then realisation tore across his features. Will couldn't help but laugh then, snorting loudly and openly as a blush began desperately to begin spreading from his neck to his face. 

"Really?" he asked, voice almost regal and almost condescending. Will didn't care, though, instead laughing louder. 

"I can't-can't believe...you were jealous...of Jack..." he wheezed, face blotchy as he tried to force out words through the laughter. 

Hannibal didn't speak, instead only dropped himself down until he was lay on Will, keeping most of his weight off by propping himself up on his elbows. He was half-hard, Will noted, and he couldn't help giggle at that either because _that,_ at _his age_ was another incredible reason why he'd be keeping this man. "Alright," he eventually said, accent curling around the words, "enough."

"You...thought...I'd let...Jack -  _Jack_ \- f-fuck me...?" he snorted, hiccuping now.

"There is barely a person alive who wouldn't fuck this ass if you let them," Hannibal said with a hefty smack to Will's left butt cheek. Humour dimmed for a moment as lust crept back into the profiler's gaze. "You are an incredibly beautiful person, William," Hannibal continued, punctuating with yet another smack. "And a rather sinful little tease."  _Smack_. "Who probably shouldn't tell lies about what a little  _slut_ they are."  _Smack._ "But instead let their lover know that they're such a _good boy_."  _Smack_. "Because I  _am_ the only one to ever have this ass, to have ever fucked inside and left my mark; to have been swallowed so greedily."  _Smack_. "Aren't I?"  _Smack. Smack_. 

"Yes," Will choked out, part thrilled and part amazed at how Hannibal could turn a situation where he was at a disadvantage into one where he was the only one with power.

"Oh there's my  _good boy_ ," Hannibal snarled into Will's sweat soaked hair, "you've been so good, waiting for me to fill you up just right." His hand went to Will's waistband and immediately Will caught his wrist. 

"Ass  _after_ ," he insisted. The Doctor smirked, but relented, instead choosing to inhale deeply and sit back, content to simply study his boy.

"You're a masterpiece, my darling," he murmured, palming himself through his still damp clothes, before smiling viciously. "You won't be able to walk when Jack finally arrests Chilton," he promised. 

"I doubt I'll be able to walk now," Will muttered, eyes fixed on the man. "Come on, we need to clean up."

"Wait," Hannibal demanded, pushing down his trousers and pulling himself free. He immediately began twisting and tugging at his cock, groaning at what was clearly still sensitive from his first orgasm. After a couple of minutes, he jerked his chin  _just so_ and Will nodded, pulling free his t-shirt before sitting up slightly. The European came on the blue-eyed man's chest with a loud groan, one that stuttered when the younger man rubbed the come into his skin with a dazed smile. Eventually his panting slowed and he hunched in on himself. "Okay,  _now_ we must shower."

"Dibs on first one," Will smiled, standing to his feet. "Feed the dogs and throw the sheets in the laundry while I'm in there?" he asked, knowing full well that Hannibal would. The man nodded and was rewarded with a deep, lingering kiss that was more filth than anything else. Will grinned against his lips once again before turning on his heel and practically skipping to the bathroom. His smile widened even further when he heard a creak, some rustling and then:

"Oh. It really  _was_ a good dream." 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Alana and Jack gave them three days before pouncing. In fairness to them, Hannibal had just dropped the second Ripper body and begun his methodical implication of Dr Frederick Chilton, so they had little choice but to bring in their expert to view the scene. It was instantly clear, however, that Alana had told not only Jack, but the others as well, that he and Hannibal were old flames, given the surprised (Katz), judgemental (Zeller) and curious (Price) looks that were directed at him as he crossed the empty car park. 

"Will," Jack greeted, eyes narrowing when he spotted the glaringly bold hickey that Hannibal had bitten, and then sucked, into his skin. Luckily the Guru couldn't see the others, ones that littered his chest, spanning his ribs, surrounding his nipples and following the line of his hipbones with a dedication that was frankly unfathomable. He'd been generous, Will thought, in letting Hannibal reacquaint himself with his body; hands and teeth and lips covering every inch except the few he desperately craved. It was becoming quickly apparent that his monster was not going to remain satisfied with taking Will apart with his hands, not when the potential to bury himself  _inside_ was so close. The silver-tongued European had almost managed to take Will into his mouth - he'd been sleepy and blissed out after several toe curling hand-jobs from the man and hadn't been paying attention to Hannibal's progression south. Breath, then a long, wet lick, and Will found it in him to kick him away. The serial mutilator snarled and bit deep into the meat of his inner thigh, unimpressed at either the dismissal or his own lack of stealth, Will wasn't sure, but with his lover looking like an angry cat, Will just threw his head back and laughed.

Incredibly, between being treated as a chew toy for the cannibal to mark up and a model for his less than PG sketches, Will had spent most of his time curled up in Hannibal's lap, indulging in him. Hands wrapped tight around his waist and head burrowed in the crook of his neck, Will found himself drifting peacefully, contented in the arms of a man who had defined his ascension into a darkness far blacker than anything he could have ever known. It was becoming more and more obvious the longer he spent with the man that he was more than just enthralled, he was  _smitten_. His craving for domesticity was overwhelming, and with Hannibal's constant talk of  _after_ , and  _keeping him_ , and  _in the end_ , he was more and more assured that this was for the long haul. His games, while fun, were not the basis for Hannibal's interest in him, it seemed, and that was almost refreshing. Especially when bundled in the man's arms, being carried from room to room because: "Fuck you Han, I'm comfortable, just carry me," was apparently neither rude, nor an illegitimate excuse.

Maybe they were _both_ smitten.   

"Jack," Will returned politely, keeping his tone neutral, but waiting for the first comment and just who it would come from. He turned to the woman stood primly by Jack's side and deliberately ignoring him. It seemed Hannibal had been incorrect in his assumption that she'd move on. Will had thought as much: after all, who would let someone like _Hannibal_ go without a fight, and that was without seeing the glorious darkness that swam in his veins and the visage of him head to toe in blood. No, Alana was prepared to fight, that was clear, but it was still annoying to be proven right in that manner, especially as she could pose a serious fucking problem. No one wanted a crazy, obsessive stalker ex, particularly one that was not only close to the FBI, but close enough to them that a sudden 'disappearance' or 'unfortunate murder' might point to them. Although, Will thought, give him a day and he wouldn't give two shits about being caught; not if he got to watch the bitch squeal as he cut out her pancreas, both kidneys and maybe even a chunk of her liver. He might even take her uterus too, especially because he  _knew_ she'd have had thoughts about giving his  _baisūnas_ children. She was the type to. 

 _Bitch_.

"Alana," he said instead, tipping his head in acknowledgement and forcing his face to contort into something that resembled a smile. 

"Nice bruise there Graham," Katz said with a smirk, cutting over the tension as though she didn't know it was there.

Will snorted, grateful for the attempt and amused at it too. "You should see the other guy," was out of his mouth before his brain even registered thinking it, and immediately everyone was on edge. He sighed, pushing up his glasses and imaging butchering them all in creative and exciting ways so as to calm himself down before he did something rash. "Look, do you want me to take a look or not?" He directed it at Jack, knowing full well just how desperate the man was. 

"We  _will_ talk about this Will," Jack promised, jabbing a finger in his direction, "but-"

"I'm sorry," Will spluttered, unable to let  _that_ slide. "But why? Last time I checked, there were no regulations against having a social life, nor having a partner. Why should I have to discuss anything with anybody?"

Jack blinked, surprised. "This is a different set of circumstances, it's -"

"How?" he demanded, crossing his arms tightly across his chest. 

"Hannibal is your _Doctor_ , Will," Alana cut in, voice brimming with rage, "it's hardly ethical."

"He's  _not_ my _Doctor_ Alana," Will returned, unable to keep the smug out of his tone. "Besides, Jack brought him in so we could have  _conversations._ "

"You're having more than that," Katz cut in snidely, sniggering just a little. 

"You're **endangering** his _**job**_ ," Alana hissed, voice rising in both volume and pitch. "If you actually  _cared_ -"

She was cut off when Will snarled, stepping forward in anger. "The fuck did you just say? -  _if_ I cared."

"Now, come on -" Jack began, clearly overwhelmed but still attempting to pacify the situation - and failing rather dramatically. 

"No," Alana barked, wrenching her hand free from where Jack had grabbed it, "you knew him years ago, before he was even a psychiatrist, Will," she started. "You don't know the Hannibal he is now, what he's been through or  _anything_ about his life here. He's  **not** the Hannibal you knew. You may have known him years ago, but I guarantee that I have not only been around him for longer, but that I know him better than you do."

That was it. He was going to murder her. 

He was going to rip her fucking face off. 

With. His. Hands. 

He was practically shaking with rage. "Where's he from, Alana?" he spat, furious at having to justify himself to _her._  "What's his full name? What about family? Where's his favourite place? Who's his favourite artist?"  _How does he kill? How does he look when he fucks like a savage?_ The questions were screaming in his head, but he was aware enough to keep hold of Hannibal's secrets, and his own, despite the blinding nature of his fury.

The women hesitated just enough to enrage Will further. "He's from -" she began but once again was cut off. 

"ENOUGH!" Jack bellowed, moving Alana to the side as though putting a foot more distance between her and Will might defuse the entire situation. "Enough!" A pause. "This is clearly a very delicate situation, with both parties clearly strong in the belief that they know Dr Lecter better, but might I remind both of you that it is the good Doctor who decides who he will date," he glanced at Will, "and who he will not," his eyes flickered to Alana, "and I know that may be upsetting, but -"

"Come  _on_ Jack," Zeller cut in, "Lecter's probably screwing him so he can take a look inside his head. Don't half the community want to see inside there."

"Hey -" Jack began, but he was cut off again.

"It's probably for a paper," Alana tacked on cruelly. 

Oh. Now they were  _both_ going to die. Slowly. Painfully. 

Because not only had they dragged his name through the mud, but she'd insinuated that Hannibal would do that. That Hannibal might drag Will into his bed just to play with his mind. The  _baisūnas_ was a lot of things: cruel and spiteful, even, but he'd never break someone he cared about further than they could be repaired. And Hannibal cared about Will. And Hannibal knew that if he did _that? -_ with Will's hatred of being analysed and pinned down like an interesting toy - he would break him beyond anything he could mend.

He took a step forward, as did Alana, and something akin to disbelief rose in him. Did she really think she had a chance? Against him? He who had bewitched and leashed and killed with the Ripper? Who had tormented souls and torn them apart for his own amusement for more than a decade? The naivety was outstanding. And then he was moving towards her, mind made up and she, mirroring him, was clearly just as determined to rake her nails across his face. But then, as Jack wrenched her back, two strong arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him away. He turned to lash out, still swimming in bloodlust, only to find Hannibal as the culprit. His darling, stupid, gorgeous monster wearing a three piece suit and a smug, amused smirk, with something like awe lingering in his eyes.

"Care to tell me why you're about to pull out Dr Bloom's spine through her mouth?" he murmured against the shell of his ear.

Will snorted, tension draining from him in an instant, because, yeah, _smitten_. "Please," he muttered, offering a roll of his eyes and trying not to let the smile threatening to spill onto his face get further than the corner of his lips, "I was _clearly_ going to puncture her lungs and gouge out her eyes."

Half a smile appeared on the man's features at Will's words and instead of replying, or even glancing the way of the technicians, Jack or Alana, he pressed a soft, reassuring kiss to Will's temple as though on instinct, hands relaxing as so to embrace rather than hold back. "What happened, my darling?" he asked after a moment, left thumb rubbing soothing circles on the tiny strip of his stomach that had been bared by his outburst. 

"She's more pissed than you thought she'd be," he murmured back, nuzzling into Hannibal's neck, so he could whisper the words into his skin, "said she knew you better and you were only fucking me so you could study me. I don't know the real you apparently," he added, dropping his own kiss to the soft skin beneath his lips.

Hannibal tensed, eyes widening comically and he looked like the definition of the word astounded. Will couldn't help but bark out a soft laugh. "She told you -  _ **you** - _ my darling, that she knew more about _me_?"

"Uh-huh," Will said, pressing another gentle kiss to the man's neck and feeling the uptick in his pulse. 

"...And then dismissed our love as nothing more than an experiment?" he continued, rage seeping into his tone. He glanced up at Alana who had stopped fighting against Jack to stare at them both, directing a fiery glare towards Will in an attempt to crack open his skull with sheer will power. Hannibal frowned, pulling back slightly to look down at the man still lingering in his arms. "She dismissed _us_?" Hannibal asked again and, when Will nodded in reply, he moved out of the way, extending his arm with a graceful flourish and said: "You may proceed." Will couldn't help it, he laughed, spluttering at the older man's gesture.

"Oh can I?" he grinned, something light taking flight in his chest. "You want me to fight for us? Oh, I'll fight for us." he continued, shaking his head and hip checking the man with a snort. " _Bitch,_ " he muttered, still grinning as his heart _swooped_ , before finally looking at Jack. "Are you going to show me this fucking body or are we going to carry on having a bitch fight over him?" he jerked his head. "If that's the case, I'm going home and you can all fight for his honour without me." He dropped his tone so only Hannibal could hear. "Not that you've got much fucking honour, you murderer."

Hannibal snorted, then looked positively horrified at his own undignified actions, which made Will laugh again, turning to his monster with an adoration in his gaze. _Sm-i-tten. Ugh,_ he was so _**gone**_. The Lithuanian composed himself before moving over to Jack, Will beside him.

"Well that was certainly an unpleasant good morning, Agent Crawford," Hannibal said coldly, in way of greeting, not even glancing at Alana. "When I was asked for an opinion, I wasn't aware it was going to be one on my love life."

"It wasn't -" Jack said at the same time as Bev shouted gleefully: "It totally was!"

Will turned his laugh into a cough, but a slight, half curve of the older man's lips betrayed his amusement at Katz's enthusiasm for their coupling. "Body, Jack," Will prompted again, knowing that it was probably not best to push Hannibal's patience too far.

A slight hesitation, then: "Right, body," he paused again, "this way."

It took Will a moment to realise as he followed Jack and the still fuming Alana to the body, that it would be the first time he had visited Hannibal's crime scene  _with_ him. Before, they'd made the art together before disappearing to some shitty motel and fucking each other's brains out, barely stopping to drink and piss, let alone revisit the site of their masterpiece and watch the police fumble about with it like virgins at homecoming. Now, though, with his person suit draped over his shoulders like a pelt, his monster entwining their fingers as they walked, they were going to be able to enjoy Hannibal's vision in the light with the artist by his side. Will had a tough time willing his cock to behave then, although from the wide flair of the European's nostrils and the ghost of a smug smile that flitted across his face, he'd noticed Will's arousal. 

Unlike before, this body hadn't been crafted indoors. Instead it stood tall and proud beneath the open sky where all the heavens could see it. And see it they should. When Will saw what his darling monster had made for him, he squeezed Hannibal's hand so tightly, he almost snapped his fingers.

The first body had been a beautiful bouquet of flowers. Something timeless, traditional, but teeming with hidden, and blatant, meaning. It was Hannibal beginning again; starting simply to court the one he intended to keep for the foreseeable future. It was sweet and pretty but rather innocuous: Will would have to be particularly bitchy to dislike it.  _This?_ This was something else. 

The man was beautiful and, if Will was honest, someone whom he would have targeted in his younger days as a good fuck and a better kill. He had curly hair - ash blonde and rumpled - and was well toned. His eyes were closed and his expression almost euphoric: head thrown back, mouth slightly agape, lips painted red, his hands tied over his head to one of the branches of the tree where he'd been left. His shirt had been ripped opened and he was naked from the waist down, but there was nothing distasteful about it. His skin was smooth and unblemished, his cock limp against his thigh and his legs were spread enough to ensure that no one missed the symbolism behind his positioning and expression. His chest had been opened and everything had been emptied out of the cavity. Cut away in neat, neat lines, the only organ that had survived Hannibal's blade was the heart. Still attached and held firmly in place, it looked solitary, almost lonely, but also exceedingly beautiful, because unlike his first victim, Hannibal had left not a hint of blood. Not on the body, the tree the body leaned against, the grass beneath his feet, not even on the rope that encircled his heavily bruised wrists - the only blemish that Will could see on the young man's skin. It took barely a moment to realise what Hannibal had done. He'd recreated two of the key moments in their history: their first meeting, ending with Will pinned against a wall, naked from the waist down, lost in a pleasure he couldn't describe; and their first kill, where Hannibal had painstakingly showed him how to remove the organs without making a mess. He'd only left the heart because Will had been too eager to fuck him to let him finish. Although this felt like something much deeper and more intimate that a lack of time. 

This felt like a declaration of **love**. 

Will knew Jack's eyes were on him, demanding answers to questions that he, frankly, didn't want to share. This meaning should be only for him; for he and Hannibal. So before he took a step forward, dropped Hannibal's hand and pretended to let the pendulum swing; before he looked Jack in the eyes and lied with phrases like "unsure", "confusing imagery", "still courting perhaps" and "too jumbled", he pressed a quick, feather light kiss to Hannibal's fingers, smiled softly and said:

"Me too, Han. Since  _always_ _._ "

**Author's Note:**

> Rights to NBC, Thomas Harris, Bryan Fuller and anyone I forgot.


End file.
